Young Louis had an easy laugh and a sweet smile. He also had the biggest, brownest eyes that scrunched up in the cutest way when he laughed. Being around him made Lizbet miss Bobby. It had only been a few days, and he would have been at camp even if she was home, but she was a little sad just the same. It felt like she was growing up fast as the memories of all of her past lives filled in details about so many things she hadn't yet experienced on her own.
In the morning, Lizbet said goodbye to her new friends reluctantly, and she gave Louis, Jr. the big hug she wished she could give to her brother. Eamon was dressed in one of Louis's small hooded sweatshirts, which just about disguised him as a young boy if you didn't look at him too closely. Fortunately, on London city streets, no one was bound to look at him at all. City camouflage couldn't completely provide the anonymity they needed while making their way along, but Eamon promised it would do to hide them for the short walk until they got to the entry point to the abandoned underground tunnel.
"Right, here 'tis. Mind yourself as we go from here, you may find it a bit risky," Eamon said as he led them into a narrow space between two buildings.
At the end of the passage, Eamon boosted her up over the high, concrete fence, and she dropped to the ground on the other side by hanging from the top of the wall while she lowered herself and then let go to land heavily after a two foot drop. James was next. Lizbet would have liked to have seen that one—small Eamon boosting tall James.
She didn't know for sure how Eamon achieved the top of the wall, but it looked like he had done it with one leap. He then jumped down, landing lightly and gracefully. He might be the size of a young boy, but all of the whispering women inside her reminded her never to forget that his abilities both physical and mental were prodigious.
Eamon lifted an iron cover above a dark hole in the ground. He produced three flashlights from his bag and distributed them.
"James, if you could go first. Someone needs to light the way from the bottom for the lassie. I'll bring up the rear, just to keep an eye out until you're both safe below."
James nodded and did as he was told, moving slowly down the ladder as Eamon shone a flashlight down the rungs.
Even though Lizbet didn't want to go into some dark hole in the ground, she could hardly refuse, particularly when James seemed to take it in stride. She was surprised by the courage beneath his geek-boy appearance. Once he reached the bottom, Lizbet pushed back her fears and borrowed courage from her other lives as her feet stretched down to each barely visible rung of the ladder in the gloom. Her heart was thudding loudly in her chest by the time her feet touched down at the end of the climb.
After Eamon clambered down, he moved off to the side of the ladder a few steps and pulled a brick from the wall. He took a metal box from behind it, removed the lid, and took an antique, jeweled knife from the top of a thick stack of bills. Then, he took about half of the bills and placed the others back in the box. He stowed the rest of it in an interior pocket of his bag and took care to zip it up.
"Remember this place. If you need it, there are enough pounds sterling here to take you both back home and fund whatever emergencies you might have on the way."
Lizbet noted that the tunnel was remarkably pretty whenever the walls were lit by their flashlights as they walked. They weren't plain concrete as she had thought they would be but were lined with tiles, often in patterns.
However much she wanted to goggle at the scenery, she had to keep her light on the ground as they walked; the path was often uneven and littered with broken tiles from the walls. She was also pretty sure that the soft scuffling sounds from the shadows indicated the presence of rats just out of the range of their lights. The dark, abandoned tunnel would not be her preferred way to travel unless she was in danger of being discovered by murderous monks.
~*~
After a short walk through the tunnels, the trio stepped onto a darkened Underground platform that appeared to have been abandoned for decades. Eamon pried open a door and led them quickly through a series of hallways and stairs. They went through a final door and exited to an Underground platform that was brightly lit and full of people. Eamon wrapped his long scarf around the bottom of his face, hiding everything but his eyes, and cocked his head for them to follow him onto the platform where a train was just pulling up. If the brothers were watching the Underground entrances, hoping to catch up with them before they got to the train station, they would have a long wait.
Lizbet wasn't sure if Eamon's insistence she and James hold his hand while waiting for the Underground was part of his cover or if he was doing it to make sure they didn't end up out of his sight and in trouble.
Walking through the abandoned, dark tunnel had been bad enough, but actually riding the aptly named "Tube" seemed somehow worse. The tunnel was hot, the air smelled and tasted metallic, and people were crushed together, all of them trying to find a place to point their eyes so they wouldn't meet the eyes of another. She wouldn't have minded being pressed so close to James if she also hadn't been pressed that close to at least ten total strangers over the course of the trip. That so totally took the thrill out of it.
Once they’d transferred to the train at King's Cross station, things were much better. Eamon had ticketed them into their own seats all of the way through, and the seats were roomy enough to be comfortable. James had picked up magazines and a couple of tourist t-shirts near the train station while Eamon kept an eye out for hidden monks. Once their bags were stowed in the racks above the seats, she was glad that Eamon had packed her book for her because it would be about six hours before they got to Edinburgh, and, even on her chattiest day, she couldn't keep a conversation with anyone going that long.
Lizbet didn't know if Eamon was a reader. Her whisperers expected that he certainly could have learned to read at some point over the centuries, although it was very rare for anyone not in the ruling classes to read and write when Morgan was alive. Celtic tradition was an oral tradition. Reading and writing had been introduced by Rome and was for the purpose of religion and administration, not storytelling. Morgan had learned to read and write because she was a respected member of Arthur's court and was often required to assist with official business. Lizbet had the sense that Morgan would have disapproved of her reading choices. It was obvious that Eamon did.
"So…and I don't mean to distract you from your wee book there…" Eamon said, "…but I don't understand why everyone's so fascinated with those vampire stories. I admit it, I don't understand the human concept of 'sexy' in the first place what with all gruagachs being male and not procreating ourselves, it's not something we know about. But, and here's the thing, a vampire is like a cross between a human and a bedbug. I have to ask myself—what in the world could be sexy about that?"
Lizbet rolled her eyes while James burst out laughing, "Exactly what I think!"
"There you go. I knew you were an intelligent lad."
"Eamon, how about that shopping time in Edinburgh?" James asked, "I've got shirts now, but the rest of my clothes are ripe."
"Och, I'm sorry, I forgot about your clothes. We should have gone this morning. I'm not all that picky about mine, as you might have guessed, but I do understand that many folk are more concerned about grooming." Eamon rummaged in his pockets and then handed a stack of notes to each of his companions. "You should be prepared in case we get separated. Will that be enough to outfit you when we reach the city?"
"Yeah…it's about a hundred times more than I need. I don't need anything all that stylin', it's not like I need to impress anybody."
"Not even the young lady, then?"
James blushed. Lizbet turned her face away because she realized that she was blushing, too.
Eamon smirked, "Deary me, look at that. Everybody turning red. Was it something I said?"
"Eamon, shut up." Lizbet lay her book down on the table between them and crossed her arms. "I think we should talk about what we need to do when we get to Edinburgh. I remember Morgan giving y
ou a package to deliver to Langoureth, and we'll need that. Hopefully, I'll remember why when I see it."
"Aye. And I know exactly where it is, although I don't know any more than you how it's to be used. I can be fairly sure it won't have been disturbed. You and Langoureth had a very safe place for your precious things after she got married. There were things she didn't want her husband to know about, and you had things you wanted to keep safely hidden away as well. But we also need to do some grave robbing on our way to Strathclyde."
"Grave robbing…really?" Lizbet grimaced.
"Go on, think back…you and I, we've done a great deal of grave robbing together in our times."
Lizbet's thoughts placed her in a graveyard. Her name is Maude. Eamon had just put a shovel down and was straining to pull aside a heavy stone coffin cover. Once the inside of the coffin was exposed, she could see the body beneath had already gone to bone with only a few dry remnants of skin and curly black hair. She reached out and yanked at the amulet around the dead man's neck with strength and hatred, and it came away as the skull detached from the neck. She stepped back from the grave. How she hated him, Faolan. He was her kin, and she had made him the amulet for protection and from love, but now she used it to punish him for what he had done to her Myrddin. Maude handed it to Eamon. "Ye know what to do with tha', me friend. Keep it safe and make sure never to let him forget wha' he stole from the wurld."
Lizbet felt cold and trapped in the memory. Then she felt James's hand on her arm, warming her. "You okay, Lizzie? You look pale all of a sudden."
James left his hand there while she told him about the second amulet, the one Morgan had made for her grandchild, Faolan. The one that only she could remove from his neck. The one that she had given back to Eamon over and over again to place around the neck of the child who was Faolan's next vessel. Six times she and Eamon had desecrated graves and removed the amulet. Lizbet felt a little sick as she remembered what she'd done in other times and places.
"I can't imagine myself digging up graves and being so full of hate. Eamon, please tell me I won't be like that after having Morgan's memories for a while." She pulled her coat up over her shoulders and suppressed a shiver.
"You need to understand—Faolan devastated her. As her grandson, he betrayed her. Worse, he brutalized and sacrificed Myrddin, his own grandfather, and then he used that sacrifice to bind magic and the magical creatures into a separate realm. He took away the entire way of life of the Druids. He hid forever from them what they believed in. He destroyed the beliefs and the culture of a people simply to increase the power of the kirk. For that reason, for hundreds of years, Morgan has handed me her amulet just before death so that I might bring it to her when she's born again. And I take her to Faolan's grave so that she can return the amulet to me for his next life. She wants him to never escape what he's done."
James's eyes narrowed as he said, "Yeah, well…It doesn't seem to be such a great plan. Because he's the guy who's chasing us, right? He's what's putting Lizbet in danger?"
"Aye, but this is the first time that Morgan and Faolan have been alive again at the same time. And that's what she's been waiting for—because it will take both of them to unbind magic. Once she's done it, he's free. I'll never have to deliver another amulet. After all these years, my quest is done. And do you know what? I'm glad of it. Whatever else happens here in the next few days, I've discharged what's been asked of me." Eamon looked away out the window and sat quietly for a while. Then he turned back to face them.
"Aye, I'm ready to be discharged from this quest. I don't mind sayin', I'm bone tired of it."
Lizbet said, "I'm sorry, Eamon. I feel like it's my fault, although technically, I wasn't around back then…and I don't mean to upset you, but if it's not Faolan's grave that you and I need to dig up, then whose is it?"
"Myrddin's. Where he's lain all these years, unknown. We need his bones. Or one bone. Even just a piece of one. Because his blood was used to seal the spell, his bone is part of what will unseal it. Do you not remember?"
"No, I'm having trouble remembering anything about Myrddin. I keep trying, but all I remember is his death. Until I saw Thomas in the airport, I didn't even know that Myrddin was Faolan's grandfather. It's like there are memories that are being held back from me intentionally."
"Aye, that's possible. Normally, I wouldn't bring you the amulet until your majority. As you can imagine, being half nymph, Morgan had some fairly grown up experiences to recollect. Perhaps she's holding memories of Myrddin back until you're more ready for them."
"Yike! Thanks for that image. Ewww. Me and some old guy."
"He wasn't always old. You were the same age. There was never anybody for you but him from the minute you first saw him."
"Cool! I guess we should go dig him up, then."
James smiled and took his hand away from her arm. Lizbet supposed he was no longer worried about her now that she had the energy to be snarky again. She felt a little pinch of disconnection. Always, there was something about James just out of reach in the whispers in her head. Whatever. Probably all of the ancient ladies in there thought he was pretty cute, too.
~*~
During the trip, Eamon listened to the lad and lassie talk about the scenery or some apparently random thought one of them would have. It broke up the monotony in between periods of quiet reading or scenery gazing. Eamon didn't join in. This trip, so close to the goal, required vigilance. He was particularly alert at each of the stops when the train took on new passengers.
They were nearly to Edinburgh, stopped at the station in Dunbar, when Eamon spotted the monks entering the train. They were disguised as tourists the same as their brothers had been in London, but they carried photographs that they referred to as they scanned the faces of the other passengers seated closer to the front of the car and made their way down the aisle.
Eamon turned to Lizbet and said, "Go. You've got the number for this phone. I'll keep them occupied so that you can find your way out of the station and on to Edinburgh. We'll meet near the castle where Queen Mary birthed her James when you were called Maude." He pushed James forcefully toward the aisle. "Now! You've got to move."
Lizbet and James entered the aisle, quickly grabbed their bags from the overhead rack, and started to walk briskly toward the back of the train. The brothers immediately picked up the pace, recognizing them from the photos they held, and started to move more quickly down the aisle.
The monks were blocked from further pursuit when a large, red plaid suitcase fell into their path from one of the seats. One of them moved it aside, but the bag managed to fall into the aisle again almost as soon as the brother let go of it. And then again. And then again, at the very rear of the train, five rows beyond where they first encountered it.
The warning to disembark sounded, and the train doors closed before the monks were able to exit.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I Hear You Knockin’
LIZBET AND JAMES picked up the pace as soon as they were off the platform. They traveled through the small station and out onto the streets of Dunbar.
They'd made it out safely without anyone following them. They'd made it. Without Eamon.
Lizbet surprised herself when she took charge. Someone had to. Eamon wasn't there. "We can't rent a car. We can't take a bus. The brothers will be scoping out those possibilities. Once we're in Edinburgh, I'm sure we can easily find the castle at the top of the hill. I was born below that castle once upon a time." She took out the unfamiliar money Eamon had given them. "We need to buy a couple of bikes."
"That's a great idea! But I haven't ridden a bike for a long time. And I definitely haven't ridden it thirty miles at a shot."
"There've got to be some decent cycling routes that can get us most of the way there. And we’ve got the whole day, so we can rest a lot if you need to. If we can find someplace with wifi for my netbook, I should be able to get a map." Lizbet hurried off toward a likely street where she hoped to find a cafe. James had
no choice but to follow.
Once Lizbet found her cafe, she put her head in plans while James tried to call Eamon. Lizbet had better luck than James. She found a bike shop about a mile away from where they were and directions for a cycling route which followed a nearly straight line toward Edinburgh. On the satellite view, it looked like some of the trip could be on city streets, but she felt it was still their best bet to get there without further monk infestations.
Lizbet didn't want to waste any time, but it was early evening now and the bike shop would be closed. The trip would have to begin tomorrow. She searched for a hotel near the bike shop and wrote down the directions for the next day's cycling trip.
As she and James walked toward the hotel, they stopped at a shop where James was finally able to pick up a few essential clothing items. Lizbet silently approved of the way his new jeans fit on his slim hips.
Once they reached the hotel, they decided that James should probably book the room while Lizbet did her best to lurk at a safe distance from the front desk clerk and look older.
Lizbet used James's phone to call Eamon again from just outside the front door lobby. No luck.
~*~
James was unable to give his full attention to the clerk when he checked in. He was distracted as he signed the paperwork with a false name and address. In the back of his mind, his white knight fantasy was taking on a reality of its own. He’d felt an unexplained connection to Lizbet from the minute he first saw her. What if he’d lived before, too?
What if his life-long fascination with knights and warfare was part of some latent memory from a long distant past? What if he and Lizbet had met before? What if he was Arthur?
As the clerk handed him the room key, he pulled himself out of his fantasy. Idiot! How big a geek are you? You’re not even good with wooden swords, much less the modern day reincarnation of a legendary king.
Riot Girls: Seven Books With Girls Who Don't Need A Hero Page 20